5 |  A Perendhel & A Fëanorian Reunite

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Celebrían Noeneth | Lady of Lothlorien and Lindon

Location: Mithlond, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: March 2981 T.A

For the past three weeks straight, she has had the worse headache since returning to Middle Earth.

The reason for that would be a bit too inappropriate for one's status and propriety. However, if she had to describe it with one it had to be—

"Men."

Celebrían raised an eyebrow to her right before internally smirking to herself. Even if she felt mentally and emotionally exhausted, it never ceased for her to be amused at her older friend's constant antics and ramblings. Especially when it came from a venting Teleri-Sinda Queen.

It was hardly something to expect from someone so highly respected, but Mereneth's ability to be laid back and open despite the circumstances has always made her wonder how she managed to be in such a position. Even before marriage, Mereneth was a lady of Ereinion's court, a close niece to Lord Círdan and perhaps considered siblings between her and Ereinion. Before that, she told her that she had been raised under Cirdan's house on the Isle of Balar, where the Falathrim once dwelt. As for Celebrían, they met when they visited Imladris after the sacking of Eregion, introduced to the supposed greatest markswoman of Mithlond and a renowned mariner.

It was kind of funny actually for her when hearing about the elleth: she would have expected someone like her mother to like someone like Mereneth. Her mother's tales of being athletic and energetic during her days in Eldamar have always been her favourite, reigning free and running around as she pleased back when they lived in Eregion. Though when Mereneth met Galadriel, they were kind and polite to one another, though not really showing any common interests at that time.

Quite obviously, Celebrían knew her mother's focus was on rebuilding and insinuating her place back in politics. Whereas Mereneth had no qualms with fighting for a place and preferred to allow such people as Círdan, Ereinion and Elrond to do so. Even Elemmírë, which she hardly knew then, got involved – but that was something she didn't like to delve into.

Her other closest friend and her mother's slight...discord (if she had to put it to a term) was something she didn't like to address or be mentioned to.

Anyhow, she raised a brow before she returned her eyes to the documents finishing off another letter to be sent to Forlond, back to Lord Fingon. Celebrían asked in a slight tone, "When you say that, do you refer to mortal men or elven men?"

"Just men in general," Mereneth shrugged before she slumped back onto the sofa which resided across the room of their suite. She crossed her legs over one another, making a tired expression. "I've been coordinating for the past three or so months between the cities, constantly travelling with Voronwë and yet none of them seemed to fully agree with any of the plans the Council has placed. A-Are they just going to accept whatever happens on this continent and let them all die?"

Celebrían couldn't help but inhale through her nostrils a little too audibly, smiling in disbelief.

"Firstly, you are being dramatic, mellon." She pointed out to Teleri elleth before she paused and took another breath – stretching out her arms. "Second of all, I do agree somewhat with this ordeal. The plan both Elrond and Illyria have suggested with the Council, backed by all accounts has yet to be fully completed and we are nearing the supposed dates in which the enemy would attack the kingdoms."

She looked on the right side of her desk, seeing the sheet of parchment which was held by the glass paperweight. On the page, written in neat Tengwar, were the noted dates in which Illyria had given that could be potential times of when the enemy would strike. Celebrían at first doubted the rather certainty of them, expecting Elrond to be the one to give it to them.

But with how much Illyria had changed, from once the elleth who taught Celebrían the role of a leader to someone choosing to stay back and be the one with the details and information, she could tell she had yet to lose touch with her impeccable sense of intelligence and logic in knowledge.

Even when she watched her during the Council, she wondered if it was Elemmírë talking over the two most known elven lords of their kind...or if it was the new version of Illyria Strange herself.

Sometimes she wondered why Illyria Strange doubted herself with Elrond Peredhel. They were both compatible together, no less perhaps a rather clever pair for her and Ereinion to have as both friends and advisors.

Though then again, Celebrían once doubted herself with Ereinion as well. But her love for him grew and that doubt dissipated as soon as she knew he would always support her in every step she took.

She heard Mereneth stand, folding her arms over each other as she now began to pace around the small table.

Her friend shook her head, "We won't have time to get there. Not even the numbers and support," Flashing a short glare at the floor, Mereneth rambled on, "Oropher only focuses on Thranduil, and I understand that. But the villages and kingdoms residing there..."

The moment she trailed off, both Celebrían and Mereneth glanced at one another. With their time spent researching and updating the history of the continent, it was nothing to ignore the fact that many kingdoms of men would reside nearby.

However, how Oropher lost his life was entwined by not only the Noldor but the men as well. And before that, her father and Oropher lost the first home they had been born and raised in. Sacked by none other than dwarves and kinslayers.

"Dwarrow?" She asked her. Celebrían was curious about how Mereneth would feel about it.

Mereneth's face appeared disappointed, shaking her head as she answered: "None of the Sindar would accept aid from any of them."

She asked her loudly, "And what do you feel about it?"

Seeing her friend pause for a moment already showed how far different Mereneth was. Compared to the quick prejudices of those of their kin, Mereneth had been brought up by Lord Círdan out of all people. And her openness had always been something that was known well in the silver-haired lady.

"That we're all children of this world, and that no matter what we all are we should help one another," Mereneth responded clearly, with a tone that could silence any glaring or stupid ellon. The determination in her gaze made Celebrían stare up at her, "We have not survived leaving Aman to watch the world burn. I have not returned from the dead just to see my son's future destroyed."

Even death by the elements, not even dragon fire could match the burning blaze which was held in Mereneth's eyes.

She could not help but stand up, walking over to her to place a hand on hers. Celebrían spoke assuredly, "And we won't." An encouraging smile rose on her face, squeezing her sister's (in all but blood) hand. "You are doing immensely and surviving certain stuffy queens in the process."

The joke left Mereneth shaking her grin away, replying, "You aren't a stuffy queen." She snorted, smirking by the end. "Believe me I would know."

Just as Celebrían had to hide a secret grin, her head turned at the knock at the door. One of her maidens entered – informing her that her appointment with a certain elven lord was here. With a muttered thanks, Mereneth let go of her hand to sit back on the sofa – deciding to pluck up the bowl of dried raisins and berries.

As for her, she took a few seconds to prepare herself before she moved over to the entrance doors of her suite – finding the rather broad and tall ellon entering with a curt nod. Celebrían formed a genuine smile at him, spotting his tired smile in return. "Celebrimbor, thank you for coming."

With the door clicking shut behind him, he looked down at her before he shuffled the satchel he possessed on his shoulder. Celebrimbor appeared as if he had sprinted all the way from Forlond in just a few hours, with slightly tousled hair and...was that ink on his cheek.

She mentally chuckled as she grinned at her older cousin. Despite all these years, it seemed the youngest Fëanorian hasn't changed as much when it comes to appearance.

"I apologise if I am a little late," He directed towards her, slightly breathless. Perhaps he had run here then. "I would think they would be back soon, from what I have heard from Círdan."

Celebrían hummed and replied, "Imladris survives. Though we've sent word that they'll be needed once they've been good enough to leave Imladris safe enough."

Technically Ereinion had. Both Finarfin and Fingolfin had sent enquiries to Mithlond to ask the whereabouts of Maedhros Fëanorian and their brother: Fëanor. From what it seemed, Celebrían doubted it was concern over the attack but mostly with the demand on what they were supposed to do with the union and their plans in helping Middle Earth.

And just like what her mother always spoke of, it would seem there was still tension between the three eldest Finwëans despite the years between them all. Though with it all, only Maedhros Fëanorian along with Fingon Ñolofinwion had the nerve to settle some progress with it all.

There was a slight clunk of wood and Celebrían quickly looked behind her – only to find Mereneth and a tipped bowl of dried nuts and berries on the table.

The most accurate markswoman of the Eldar...with a major flaw of clumsiness.

It would seem Celebrimbor remembered the familiar face, now trying to clean up her mess before she stood up and introduced herself.

"Mereneth," The ellon beside her called out.

'What in Yavanna's Garden is he doing here?' With an arch brow, Mereneth eyed Celebrían before she flashed a wink at the Fëanorian. "Celebrimbor, glad to see you out of your forge for once."

Celebrían looked at Mereneth and replied internally, 'He's here to help me with something.'

'Right...something...' The Teleri elleth drawled before she smirked back at Celebrimbor, folding her arms over her chest.

Celebrimbor replied in a more blank tone, "Glad you're still rambling on about Nimloth's excessive needs with perfume products."

Thank her years of practice to control her own emotions openly, but she couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the two. They always somehow must tease one another. Celebrían had only learnt about Mereneth and Celebrimbor's relationship after Eregion, unfortunately after his supposed death.

Shrugging her shoulders, Mereneth replied: "We're in a war, somehow we need to smell good." As Celebrimbor walked past her with Celebrían, Mereneth had the moment to lean over the Fëanorian's shoulder – taking a sniff before scrunching her nose. "Which all in fairness: you need to bathe. Or put some lavender on."

When they finally reached her desk, Celebrían went around to her side and eyed him. She questioned, "Cousin, do you have it?"

At the same time, Celebrimbor was already taking out the scrolls of parchment.

He answered back as he placed them down on the desk – opening the scroll. "The only reason I even agreed with you all."

With her help, she placed some books over the corners of the large spreadsheet, her mouth opened in awe at the detailed drawings and notes that Celebrimbor had made. This was exactly what she had wanted, and perhaps something her cousin had been desperate for as well ever since that day.

As she was still trying to digest everything that was written over the parchment, Celebrimbor had slipped out a small pocket journal, probably filled with notes and ideas much like how he used to have.

A third figure – Mereneth – leaned across on Celebrimbor's side. She asked them both whilst staring down at the drawings, "What is it?"

Celebrían looked up at her cousin before she murmured with hope, "Something that will help my mother." She asked him, "Will it work?"

The short nod and knowing gaze already shot a warmth up her chest. 

"Thank the notes and rather...incredible research Mir-Illyria gave me, I was able to see how we could separate their powers apart without destroying it entirely," Celebrimbor explained, a slight lilt in his voice. It reminded her of when she was a child, hearing her older cousin explain all the ridiculous ideas he and Lord Narvi used to make.

Eru, she could see the gears in his mind turning, a wheel moving non-stop.

However, he was not always like this. Leaving the Halls and Aman, Celebrían had reunited with a broken and torn Celebrimbor. Guilt had eaten him after his death. He blamed all but himself for falling under his ambitions and the desire to work with the supposed Maia: Annatar.

But after Sauron's trickery, he had done all he could to try and save them all. In the end, he sacrificed himself, saving those escaping Eregion for the safety of Rivendell.

The Fëanorian then and the Fëanorian now may be the same, but those eyes were filled with grief and guilt.

His guilt with being the one who created the rings.

Celebrían had cried when he once met her as they arrived back in Lindon after he had told her everything that happened.

Him falling for Annatar's plans.

Ignoring the warning signs both Elemmírë, Ereinion and her mother gave him.

"And what if it falls into the wrong hands?" Mereneth cut the silence with now a blunt question, glancing at each of them as she informed them, "History does repeat itself if you need to be reminded. The both of you."

Celebrían watched in the corner of her eye the hesitation in her cousin's gaze. She knew he was thinking about it all again.

He stared down at her.

Both shared the same questions as well.

Would this repeat the mistakes they have made?

What if this risks everything they have tried to prevent?

Clearing her throat, she said honestly to them both: "My mother is many things but falling into darkness is never one of them," She paused, "Not when my father and I breathe and our people exist."

She also added to herself, 'Not when there is hope and light left in this world...'

Unfortunately, Mereneth was always doubtful of the magical side of their lives. Eldar or not, she was surprisingly the one despite having Círdan as a relative and her and Illyria as her close friends. "And what about Elrond? And the other bearer?" She questioned them, "Would it affect them?"

By Celebrimbor's frown and deepened pondered, he had yet to delve further with his research, "We'll have to see." He placed his notebook down, taking a charcoal pencil to scribble something down as he sighed, "But with what Illyria tells me in these notes, I will need to take more measures in discovering how to overcome that ring's power."

It was now Celebrían's turn along with Mereneth to be confused at his words.

"What? Why?" Mereneth asked.

Celebrimbor glanced at them and answered, "Because Vilya was the first out of the three." He explained with a grim expression, "And the most powerful out of them all."

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Illyria Strange | The Eternal

Location: Maglor's Safehouse, Norway, Earth

Time: August 2027

She felt as if she was floating.

Immersed in water, she waded through the emptiness of space – her body suspended.

She turned her head to the left, unsure if she was breathing or not until she stared at a blinding light. Silhouettes of white illuminated the darkness before her, waves of a beautiful orchestra of voices entering her ears. It was nothing she had ever heard; beyond the beauty of music, she had yet seen in her life.

Then the very fabric of space tore itself around her, bursting in explosions of colours until a swirl of matter formed.

A world encased in a translucent dome, filled with stars and nebulae. A flat world perfectly shaped and symmetrical. With oceans suspended under rock and earth and the plant life forming and growing at an alarming speed.

She felt her body flung through space at light speed, only a blink took her to stare at the awe of the island before her. Beauty and nature and beyond the expectations she had imagined. The surge of wonder filled her mind as the song continued through her ears.

And in a flash, the world changed once more.

Destruction. Death. Fire. Darkness.

A shadow loomed over until the two stark lamps shattered in a tumbling cascade. The scenery changed and spun around her.

Two trees began to blossom in a new land before being engulfed once more in darkness.

In a flash of light, she found herself lurching again into staring at the stars. Patterns and lines began to form before she stared at something. Like a mountain that had been shattered and brought down by a hammer, glass shards of remnants littered the ground with plants and trees growing around them.

It was there multiple voices overlapped echoed around her throughout the song.

"Find us!"

She turned around, trying to find the voice but no one appeared.

"Find us, Oialëa!"

Reaching her hand out to touch the growing mountain, she asked, "Who are you?"

"...You will know when you see it..."

Peering back at the small alcove, she stared upon the cracked open of the mountain – hearing the humming begin to grow.

The humming of energy coursed through her.

"...A beacon upon a broken shard of stone. Created beyond time and space. Between the edges of known and unknown...There you will find what you have been searching for..."

"I don't understand," She whispered.

The voices called out to her, "You will."

She suddenly found the world around her darkening, spinning and tumbling.

"Find us!"

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She flung her upper body up – letting out a massive gasp.

Illyria let out a string of curses enough to fill her's and her dad's swear jar for an entire week, her hand already finding her face. She wasn't surprised that she felt the stickiness of sweat all over her, massaging her forehead before she tried to hold herself up on the bed. Not to mention the fact that even when she knew she was in Norway, it was like a sauna in this place. Thank Maglor the supposed beach hermit from the books to enjoy the heat so much, she would have thought he preferred the cool temperate climate of Kamar-Taj.

But ignoring her complaint about the heat, she knew most of it had to be whatever that fricking vision was.

And by Agamotto's soul...she was lost for words with it.

Instead of slumping back down and mostly ending up taking an hour to go back to bed, Illyria eyed the singular window inside the only bedroom in this cabin. Or the Crack Shack, a nickname she dubbed the moment she realised how it smelt too much of the alleyways she used to take shortcuts around Oxford and New York. Well...with how Maglor dressed, he might as well fit in with the entire 'homeless wandering wizard' and join Gandalf with his pipe.

Which reminded her again about where she was.

Clearly, she was Dorothy in this place, Maedhros was Toto, Maglor was Oz and they were living in some Oz' Norwegian lakeside crack shack.

God she was not going to go through her own head again trying to tell herself what had happened. All she wanted to do was find some alcohol, preferably a hundred per cent, and just chug it all down and hope her half-Aini blood could save her soul. Unfortunately, Maedhros forbade everyone to drink during the day and only allowed a glass of cheap ass red wine between the three of them for one night.

Fuck her red tree for being the sane one out of all of them. If Elrond was here, he would definitely join her in her drinking session.

Heck: she might have to be the sane one to help him cope with the massive bomb they somehow landed with.

Even thinking about Elrond, all she could feel was her heart scrunching up into a tight ball and wanting to cry. For him or with him? She couldn't tell anymore the difference. She knew Elrond would be torn and haunted the moment his sorry-ass face turns up in Imladris, and it would tear her apart to see him break every single mended piece he had ever since Maglor left them.

If Elros met Maglor...well it won't end in a good way.

Maybe a punch in Maglor's face.

Maybe even a knife; Illyria would not be surprised if the reincarnated king of Númenor would threaten to kill Maglor after leaving them and never intending to see them again.

However: with all this pent-up anger and sadness that was between her, Elrond, Elros and Maglor...it was what happened before revealing himself that began to surface in her mind for the past few days.

Her being half-Aini.

She was part quasi-god...

The moment at the store...seeing the aisle around her morph in an unexpected way.

How she almost destroyed Sauron...

Illyria closed her eyes and took several calming breaths. It was then she finally flung the blanket off herself, sliding onto the side of the bed before she grabbed the sheet and wrapped it over her shoulders.

When she walked through the main room, she discovered that the blankets were strewn across the armchair and sofa. No Maglor nor Maedhros is sight. Illyria glanced once more for a final check, sensing again a pulse of a fëa rather close. With the creaky floorboards, she walked over to the front door and opened it.

Sitting on the long wooden bench on the porch was Maedhros, his face immediately glancing at her.

Illyria looked at him before she found herself walking over and plopping herself next to him.

"Are you alright?" He asked her in a quiet tone, looking down at her with concern.

Inhaling the nice cool air, she leaned back and folded her legs up – covering them with the sheet she just dragged out. "Just had something," Illyria answered, admitting at the end what it was. "Dreams again."

From the corner of her eyes, as she watched the landscape in front of them, the red-haired Fëanorian didn't seem satisfied but thankfully didn't pry.

It was her turn to be a little invasive. "Why are you awake?"

Maedhros took a slow and controlled breath, relaxing once more with his posture as he stared off at the lake before them. "I admit, I miss seeing the sunrise. Especially with such a beautiful spot."

She couldn't help but agree. Seeing the sun peaking between the sides of the mountains before them was outstanding. Rays of light filling the valley and reflecting against the freshwater made it feel so tranquil and comforting. It's been so long since the sun existed in Arda, Illyria almost forgot what Middle Earth looked like during the times of the day. The beauty of the night in Imladris was still there, but nothing could ever compare to remembering those mornings waking up in the valley: meditating or simply just wasting her hours away at the top of the waterfall.

When she turned to Maedhros, she saw within him how he seemed relaxed now. His trust of this place must have been established once she finally found herself some security within Maglor's own warded safehouse.

But the tension in his mind. His soul.

Illyria could tell he was restless. He always was, even back in Oxford. It was the reason why he was so good at being a freelancing agent for Wakanda as a whole. Why she felt safe with her red tree despite the dangers posed between them.

She looked away from him, her words already leaving her lips in a gentle tone. "You're afraid for him."

He didn't tense nor move, only breathing out as he replied quietly, "Of course, how can I not be?" Maedhros paused before he continued, "He was always so different to us...he...takes the best of both of my parents. And Tirion was a pit of politics and ambition and devotion to purity. And yet...he was the purest out of all of us."

In one part of her mind, she wanted to argue back at what he said.

Though deeply in her heart, she knew it was all true. Even discovering Lokachari, the choices he had made and the stories he spoke off that should have felt cold and ruthless...all Illyria could spot was the hope and grief he wore. How his choices were backed by his determination to save the ones he loved. To do what he thought was right even if it did hurt others.

Her heart tightened slightly, though tried to begin a sort of argument at the break of day. "I can still see him, you know," Illyria turned to look up at him briefly before she stared back forward. "What is left of him. It's still there. I just can't forgive him yet for what he had done...to Elrond and Elros."

'What he did to me.' She wanted to say as well. Both as Maglor and Lokachari, the actions he made to secure her own life to what he saw with a fucking jewel and infinity stone made her blood rise.

Noticing her hand which was hung over her knees clenched, Maedhros placed his own over her – causing their eyes to meet.

"In time," Maedhros softly spoke, "Give him time like how you once did."

Inhaling, she closed her eyes for a moment. "It's hard," She looked back at the lake, trying to focus her own emotions despite them filtering through her words every second, "With everything he says. The more he says...the newer things I have to worry about."

And the more things she worried about; her emotions begin to get involved.

And emotions are messy as fuck.

Look at what happened to so many people in her life. Wanda Maximoff, Peter, her dad.

"Imagine yourself in his shoes."

Illyria snorted, raising her eyebrow at the redheaded Fëanorian. "You call those shoes?"

With a soured expression, he responded with a huff: "Fine, in his place then." He began, returning to his serious tone, "All these secrets and facts all put in your mind, trying to make sure our reality won't self-destruct within a second."

She bit back a groan and instead exhaled, burying her head into her knees. "I know." Illyria's voice grew hoarse, tilting her head back up with another sigh. "I just...it's just hard to accept it all. Everything he has done. For us. This multiverse. He and the Ancient One and now my dad and Wong."

It was difficult to put the elf whom she thought in her entire life as both Elemmírë and Illyria to be the same one who has done every bit of their part to protect reality. To find ways to save their assess from the future. Maglor and Lokachari were too different in her mind.

Kind and grieving Maglor, the foster father of the half-elf she loved.

Enigmatic and cold Lokachari, the sorcerer who had sacrificed and left their questions unanswered. An unknown figure in the game.

And yet...why did it seem as if it felt right to see both. She could tell he didn't like being called by any of his Quenya names. He didn't mind Maglor but calling him Lokachari left a dirty taste in her mouth.

The name Lokachari didn't fit the face she had come to know as a friend.

Yet that face has seen too much. Too much trauma and horror that neither she nor Maedhros would probably ever know in detail. All she could tell was that he had probably seen as much as Wong and her dad has. He had that sort of look, that look he saw in many of the older and more trained sorcerers. After being exposed to the Multiverse, a person's third eye tended to be rather open and fragile to such unexplained things.

Even Maedhros had that sort of enlightenment. After the mishap years ago, it was evident he had a multiversal shock by his rather philosophical words.

"We all hold an important part of this. Even from the tiniest speck or whatever you disagree of ever being some effect to it all, we all have a part to play," he told her, making her gaze up at him in slight surprise.

Illyria lifted her head back up as she asked, "How did you ever manage the March?"

"I was raised to be the heir of the throne, nethig. That was my purpose." There was slight bitterness in his words as he spoke, "The March was just a replacement of the people I would've had to order about."

She frowned and noted, "But you didn't have to. You had a choice."

"Our choices were lost the moment we swore the Oath," Maedhros answered quietly, his eyes parting away from her.

Illyria looked away and found herself staring at the waterfront. She wondered if Maglor was close enough to hear them talk about this. But even if he did, she knew he would deny eavesdropping on their conversation.

She wondered throughout interacting with the Fëanorians how they all sort of felt about the Oath. They didn't openly say anything regarding said Oath, but she knew that certain brothers hated it more than others.

Somehow Maedhros fell in the middle. Being the eldest, it must have hit him the most.

But the amazing thing was that despite it breaking him – Maedhros recovered from it and continued.

"Then what's your purpose now then, do you think?" She questioned him, adding on a snarky comment, "Because you technically have two Silmarils now in your family. Seems pretty complete."

She watched him pause to think.

"...It was never just bringing them back to us. Not really." Maedhros began, glancing down – eyes hitting his vibranium hand. "And it was why it feels...I feel cheated by it all."

Illyria creased her brows. "What is the purpose of the Oath if not fulfilling purpose and duty itself?" She wondered aloud, attempting to justify whatever was in his big fruity head of his. An idea popped into her head as she continued, "Maybe you already fulfilled it before?"

Now Maedhros' attention turned to her, peering down. He questioned slowly, "Why do you think so?"

Gradually, a sly smile formed on her lips before she wistfully drawled out, "Because technically...I'm part Silmaril then." Illyria stretched an arm out and gestured to herself, jutting her chin up as she said, "I hold the Light of the Trees...And you got me."

Staring at a mixed-unimpressed and actual revelated Maedhros, he blinked several times before he simply spoke, "I never thought of it like that."

There was a pause.

He then scoffed and told her, "And don't call yourself that."

Her smile lessened when she asked back, "What? A jewel?"

"No, something of a property," He glared at her, though not in a scolding sense. In fact, there was a certain warmth that rose in her chest as his words echoed into her ears. "You are sentient. Alive. A real person Illyria Ettelëa."

The glint in Maedhros' gaze down at her caused her lips to either waver from a smile. She wasn't sure whether to cry or just downright hug his side. Even after everything that happened to them, Maedhros was here beside her. Even if she knew he was hurting deep down, he focused on her and Maglor's welfare.

Even when she almost got him killed and Maglor had ghosted his brothers for aeons.

She carefully brought her hand into his fake one, letting her magic sense the comfort of the metal's energy as she leaned her head onto his side. Afterwards, he had moved his arm away – snaking to go around her shoulders to tuck more of the blanket around not just her but him as well. All they heard was the sound of birds and the water lapping onto the shore, their breathing filling the rest of nature's sounds.

Illyria cut the silence as she whispered, "I'm scared of what they'll think of me." She spoke, "When they find out."

'When Elrond discovers what I am...' She thought with tightness in her heart. 'My children...' Would she have the nerve to look at them when she tells them what she was? What they were?

At that moment, Maedhros' vibranium hand smoothened her hair. "Elrond loves you," He answered, "He is nothing but understanding and forgiveness combined."

All she could hope for was that everything Maedhros said was true – even if she didn't believe it herself.

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Location: Rivendell, Middle Earth, Arda

Time: March 2981 T.A

Using the Gem of Lokachari was like driving Mr Bean's car through a wheat field. After they had landed on solid ground (thank the lord for that), Illyria's first check was on her brace – letting out a massive breath when the month and year was correct. Let's just hope that Maglor Fëanorian took them to the right universe.

All they could do was trust his word that this was the place, considering it should be the middle of the day but it was in fact practically the dead of night. They landed right on the outskirts of the valley; her guts wanted to shuffle around her after that horrible thing. And with how much she hadn't been taking care of herself (or how much Maedhros and Maglor tried to take care of her), the lack of basic needs was probably the reason why the entire world was like being on Space Mountain.

After Maedhros hauled her up after glaring at Maglor, who apologized that his choice of travelling wasn't exactly as smooth, to begin with, Illyria brushed it off and assured both that she was okay enough to walk to the Homely House.

Both didn't know she had suffered having to find the Shire injured and exhausted the first time she arrived her.

Using her staff as a sort of walking stick (if Kili and Fili knew about this, she would never hear the end of it), Illyria, Maedhros and Maglor headed towards the Homely House.

The valley had yet to recover, though she was glad that there was some sort of life growing back ever so slowly. Perhaps Elrond managed to use Vilya again, though hopefully not too much since what happened before. She wondered what Maglor thought of this, and what he could have prevented if took action to stop Saruman and Mordo's army from destroying their home and killing people.

But as much as she hated Lokachari thinking that it was for the greater good, looking back at a nervous and very fearful ellon looked too much to be Maglor.

Yeah, now her nerves were now all on what was going to happen.

If Elrond doesn't want him here, then she'll be on his side.

On another note, there was something else that had been eating away at her heart and brain. Though, that was something she was going to confront rather soon.

Three things.

Three things she must confront today.

And she was already done even before the first one.

When they arrived at the Eastern entrance, she spotted a familiar elf who usually tended with cleaning the rubble of the house. Their face lit up in surprise and relief before they bowed their heads, noting that they would get either Miriel or Lindir. Illyria was about to tell the elf that they could probably head to Elrond's study but thankfully right on time – a familiar feminine face walked out of the patio with a widened eye.

She stammered out her words as she glanced between Illyria and Maedhros – eyes quickly looking at Maglor's view but didn't stay as much. "My lady, I..."

"Miriel, do you know where Elrond is?" Illyria asked before she could ask who the dark and scruffy-looking shadow they had.

Well...she and Maedhros were far from perfection by how they appeared but at least their shoes were fine.

The elleth understood the swift order and nodded. "Lord Elrond is in his study with Lord Glorfindel." She opened her mouth to suggest something but clamped it back down and hummed, "I agree, perhaps a more private place would be suitable, Lad-Illyria."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

All she could concentrate on was the sound of her metal staff tapping against the marble floor, her mind replaying and relaying everything that had been constantly in her mind. It was like listening to a dozen podcasts all at once, the voices and noises overlapping at one another. Harley once told her that it often happened to him if he had too many projects to think about and all he could do was focus on something that was in front of him.

It was working to some extent. Though it took a second to realise they arrived at their destination and she found herself blankly looking at the door.

With a slight smile, Miriel told her that she was thankful that she returned safely and that both Elrond and Glorfindel had been worried for them since.

The mention of her brother made something snap inside her, causing her feet to jump slightly before a muffled voice called out from within the room.

'This was it,' She thought. 'Shit is going to go down really bad for all of us.'

Illyria let her staff disappear into her dimensional pocket, sensing a slightly tense look from Maglor's obscured face before she then opened the door.

When she rose her head forwards, she could not help but let herself pause to breathe.

Rising in a quick and yet graceful manner, Elrond stared towards her. His face morphed into relief but then concern as he walked towards her.

Illyria began to walk towards him, her heart being tugged towards his own. She wanted to run despite her aching body, be embraced into his arms and just sense his presence close to her. But she knew it wasn't the right time, knowing now as her eyes wandered to the blonde-haired figure standing in front of the abandoned chair next to the desk.

Stopping just several feet away, she quickly darted away to look back at Elrond. He opened his mouth, wondering in his head why she had stopped.

As Maedhros stepped to the side, he uncovered the hooded figure of his brother.

Elrond's eyes confusedly glanced at each of them silently before he watched the figure beside her and Maedhros uncover his hood.

It was then Elrond froze.

She had felt his fëa jerk and stop literally, his mind trying to understand what he was looking at but all he did was stand there in the middle of the room and gape in a mix of disbelief, horror, and shock.

"Maglor..." He whispered so breathlessly.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"Yes onya?" The Fëanorian who sat upon the log turned to look at his foster son.

Elemmírë watched on the sidelines, her hands more focused on braiding Elros' untamed hair. For a son of a Part-Maia, she expected their hair to be flawless as much as any of the Ainur would be. Though to no surprise, the more feral twin of the sons of Eärendil just had to have twigs and leaves stuck in his hair.

Though as she struggled to get the young peredhel to stay still, she saw that Elrond had walked over to the minstrel – eyes so big and glittering under the daylight as he asked him a question.

Elrond asked politely to Maglor, "Can you sing us a song, please?" He added, "The one about the two sisters reuniting."

"Yes! Please, Atto!" Elros jumped up as he cried, causing Elemmírë to yelp back before scolding the young elfling.

Her eyes turned to Maglor, practically begging for him to just sing the song just to get these two settled down. Eru knows their energy would deplete with some concentration.

With a ragged sigh, Maglor smiled towards Elrond and Elros before he turned around – unpacking the small lyre which he carried through their journey. With a strum of his fingers, Elros sat back down as Elemmírë returned to fixing his hair. She spotted Elrond sitting right in front of Maglor's feet – already enraptured and concentrated.

It was only when his voice echoed hauntingly across the Fëanorian camp, Elemmírë was brought again to feel the song down into her fëa.

Though, none could move her other than finding both Elros and Elrond's eyes filled with wonder and tears.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Internally, Illyria could sense his panic and emotions begin to erupt.

Elrond took a step forward as he asked, "Is...is it you?"

From her spot, Maglor lips twitched slightly – a sad and pained smile forming. He lowered his chin – nodding slowly.

"Hello Elrond," he said in a hoarse voice.

Under the dimmed lights, she saw Elrond's eyes begin to glimmer. For a moment, there was a gentle speck of purple in them.

Or maybe that was just the lighting. Maybe the tiredness was really hitting her.

And then the name left his mouth and echoed throughout the study.

"Maglor...Atar," Elrond breathed.

Tears began to spring from her eyes as she watched Maglor wanting so badly to be as distant, afraid to be so near to Elrond as he softly spoke back, "You've grown so much, onya." Maglor inhaled, stammering back: "I—I don't know how to begin..."

Elrond stayed silent, never leaving his foster father's gaze.

She didn't want to pry but the silence was worrying her. Elrond somehow had frozen himself, his mind closed off from her as she watched whatever he was going to do.

Maglor inhaled sharply, fidgeting with his fingers as he began, "I will understand if you do not want me here." He stared at the half-elven lord and continued, "This is your home, and I won't barge in—"

Suddenly he met with an embrace.

Illyria watched with a wavering smile, wiping her tears as she watched Elrond's face buried into Maglor's shoulder – completely engulfing the shorter stature of Maglor.

Once he pulled away, she saw the genuine gleam and smile on his face. Elrond spoke, "You're welcome here, Atto. You always have been," His eyes darted up to Maedhros. "You and your brothers. Your family."

With a knowing nod, Illyria smiled at the three. Now she could finally let that breath she had held for this, amazed and in awe at the half-elf before them.

Elrond Peredhel baffled them all.

"I don't suppose I am allowed to bathe," Maglor awkwardly tried to cut the tension slightly. "I may appear like this but it is all but glamour at the moment."

Elrond's smile didn't come off, nodding back to his foster-father with a gesture. "Come, I'll have the draw you a bath and some fresh clothes," He eyed them all, even her brother before he added. "And you may discuss what has happened and where you have all been."

Maglor looked behind Elrond, spotting Glorfindel standing stiffly by Elrond's desk before he turned to his brother and Illyria. He then took his leave, Elrond guiding behind him.

There was a moment between that she managed to catch Elrond's gaze, telling him mentally that she would go and meet with him later and that she needed to talk to her brother. Despite his concern and confusion, he agreed with a curt nod before he allowed his study for the three of them.

Right...one down...second one to go.

Illyria let out a short breath before she found herself looking at a relieved Glorfindel, now out of bed and uninjured.

Hmmm...wonder why.

With a neutral tone, she asked the Fëanorian left in the room. "Could you give us a minute, Mae?"

When she eyed him, there was hesitation in his eyes. Of course, it would take some persuasion to get Maedhros to leave, especially with what she was about to talk about, but he understood her. She could handle this on her own.

This was her problem. She was not a little girl anymore.

And just like what her dad and Darcy said: she had to take responsibility for her problems.

With a stern nod, Maedhros thought to her, 'If you need me, I'll be down the hall. Alright?'

'I know, Maitimo.'

He gave a deadly blank look back at the Balrog Slayer before he headed out of the study. Once the door quietly shut before him – she was now standing several metres away from Glorfindel.

Her...brother.

Her supposed brother.

A relieving smile formed on Glorfindel's face as he walked over, "Nésa, I'm glad you're alive." He continued, rambling on: "I should have gone down to Isengard with you and Maedhros but I understand that I needed to replenish my strength and—"

"Did you know?" She snapped back.

Glorfindel stopped in his tracks. His eyes were wide in alarm and confusion. "I'm sorry?"

Illyria literally had to hold herself from snapping again or raising her voice. Already she could feel her blood pumping as she tried to calm herself with a deep breath. She stared back at him and quietly said back, "I'm not repeating what I said."

She stared straight into his gaze, not even budging on revealing. She wanted him to look for it, word his ass off why she was pissed off.

And not just pissed off.

Illyria felt betrayed.

Months as Illyria and hundreds of years as Elemmírë...and all this time.

"No..."

Glorfindel's face fell into horror as he whispered more, causing her heart to crack at every second.

"You know."

She felt her hands clenching into fists as she questioned back sharply, "And you did?"

Never had she seen the great Lord of the House of the Golden Flower crumble before him. Perhaps centuries of learning to control his own emotions. Control his anger to instead fuel his skill with a blade. All those smiles and cheerful stories of being in Aman.

Now all she could see was him...nothing but a liar.

Inhaling through his nostrils, she was shocked to find this part of him unveiled. Questions swirling in his mind, probably wondering who had babbled out the secret nobody had tried to tell her.

His eyes narrowed as he questioned back, "Who told you?" His eyes flashed in a momentarily glow. "Was it him?"

For a second she had seen someone that wasn't her brother. Not even Glorfindel. And that moment had found her heart skipping a beat in fear.

In a defensive tone, she cried back: "What? No!" Illyria watched his face calm down once more as she explained to him, "Saruman did. He told me when he decided to threaten Maedhros' life and I accidentally somehow cracked through my hröa."

Or so that was what Maglor told him. Apparently whilst she had the White Wizard douchebag by the throat, the half-aini part of her was trying to surface out of her mortal body.

Which – by how she was thinking it now – sounded terrifying as fuck.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Glorfindel sighed. He shook his head before he muttered. Either to himself or her, she really couldn't tell. "You shouldn't have learnt it that way," He murmured, "It wasn't supposed to be that way."

Illyria opened her mouth and replied, "What? That I'm part-Aini and you're what? The same as well?"

When he looked back at her, he didn't respond.

But the silence was the answer.

"Oh my god..." Her voice cracked slightly, hand wavering in front of her mouth as the revelation seeped through her. "You are, aren't you?"

God, she was stupid. Obviously, the closest person who knew about what she was: was the same species as her!

As her mouth trembled, she heard Glorfindel tell her more: "No one knows. Perhaps Lady Galadriel and the older quendi who lived in Eldamar but only a few know what I am."

"No wonder..." Illyria flared her nostrils and muttered darkly, "No wonder why your tests were off the scale. I thought it was the Silmaril but in fact, it was just because of what you are."

Glorfindel nodded quietly. "I believe it's part of it." He paused, lips pursed and his face now plastered into a hardened expression. "The Silmaril just unlocked what was there hidden from me. From you as well."

Her throat felt like something was scraping dirt on a doormat, trying all she could to bite away her tears as her entire body felt as if she was about to explode.

The figure – her half-Ainu brother – must have sensed it already. Maybe with his unsurprisingly godly power to detect her or the fact that she was just too tired to hide it.

Reaching his hand out, Glorfindel realised she hadn't moved and retracted away. He pleaded, "Nésa." A regretful look formed on his face. "I...I am sorry that you learnt that way. I really am."

Illyria coldly stared at his silver gaze. The same ones she had trusted all these years. The same ones she had always looked up to. "For what," She replied in a monotone, "That this happened?"

"For everything." He confessed, shoulders sagging back as he tried to explain to her why he seemed apologetic at one second, and then acting accusingly in the next. "When you were given to my parents...our foster parents, I was told the secret and that I swore to keep it hidden."

Glorfindel elaborated, he told her about the first time he had seen her. Delivered to the doorstep of their home before they had yet to embark for Alqualondë, he had returned to tell his parents that he would follow Turgon and the Host of Fingolfin across to Middle Earth. Only when he arrived, he found his parents with a child to which they only revealed to him that one of Ainur had asked of them to take the child along with them for the child's own safety. He had been confused as to why and wondered who even sired the child.

Her breath was lost when Glorfindel revealed to her those very words Saruman told her.

That she was made. Never born. That one of the Ainur (unknown if they were Maiar or Valar) had somehow found a second fruit from Laurelin and hid it away.

Her.

A remnant of the trees.

He continued his tale, wondering why they were put to this task. To put two children of the Ainur together was like putting a large red mark on a map. But neither the parents they were placed knew no reason. Instead, they chose to give up, become exiles themselves because of it. Why they would go against something by the Valar had always confused him, but it was only when years later: the day Ulmo arrived on the shores of Vinyamar Glorfindel knew the plans of the Valar with them.

The Valar said she would be the solution to their problems. But what solution? Only Illyria could presume it had been to save Ea. But even brushing through the story, all she could think about were the times she remembered. The moments she questioned her brother why she was always so different. Why she grew up differently from the elves, with magic that was different to the Eldar. Why Glorfindel protected her like a ring of power.

The day Glorfindel died...he sacrificed himself for her. Every dire second she was at the brink of death: he would be there.

A protector of the Valar's weapon.

At the end of his tale, Illyria's knees were weak. Her eyes were only trained on the ground, staring at her hands. She then lifted them back up to him, trying all she could to find the similarities between her and him.

Whoever...created her...they knew how to hide her. Make her appear so like her own protector. Same hair, the same face, and similar personalities. Did their foster parents look like them as well to hide them within the Noldor?

Swallow became difficult as she tried to speak, her words stammering as she called out to him, "So I don't even...do I even have a parent?" Illyria questioned, "Are we even related?"

A glimpse in Glorfindel's mind already answered it. Her heart continued to crack.

"Am I even an elf to begin with?" 

It almost came out as a plea. Deep inside her, her old self was screaming. Begging to know if this was the reason why she had been so different to them all these years. Why Elemmírë was never one of the firstborns.

He gulped back his voice, deep and plain as he replied to her. "I know that we are connected somehow. They never revealed to me entirely who sired me, or who gave me a hröa, to begin with."

Licking her lips to taste the saltiness, she wiped her face harshly.

"I'm not even an elf?" Illyria looked away, shutting her eyes as she muttered to herself. "Why doesn't that fucking surprise me."

"I am but...you are far more different." He revealed to her, his voice growing quiet as the static noise began to fill her mind. All the voices and memories of people telling her how unique she was. "And I cannot say it until the Ainur in question tell you themselves."

"Maybe that's why I could...I could fight Saruman or Sauron then. How you can sense more," The revelation hit her like a smack to the face. Illyria flicked her head back to him and demanded, "It's just you and Maglor?"

Glorfindel hesitated for a moment, "That is something I cannot say." He told her, edging closer to try and comfort her. Comfort her? At this damn time? "But I...I watched you grow. Be born. And why we look so much alike."

She stared back.

There was a part of her wanting to cling to him. To cling to his comfort.

He whispered to her, "That is something I know...that we both know that we are brother and sister."

Before Stephen Strange, even under the guardianship of the Ancient One, there was never someone she could easily go and be comforted by. She couldn't just simply hug the Sorcerer Supreme or act like a child to either Kaecilius or Mordo.

Glorfindel had been that anchor. Her brother whom she instantly clicked to. The one she didn't care if she had killed someone or had destroyed the world. She could still be that little girl she wished she was, just like all those shows she watched as a kid.

But this...

How could she easily trust him now after hiding something about her?

"Illyria...nésa."

She shook her head to stop him from getting anymore closer to her, breathing in deeply as she answered back, "I...I need to think again."

"You have time."

"No, we don't!" She snapped back, her eyes flaring straight in his direction. Her chest felt like she was being stabbed multiple times, a flame burning through her. "We don't have time, Glorfindel! Our world is going to be destroyed and I don't even know if I'll be alive before it happens!"

His eyes were wide, arms out as he tried to gesture to her, "Illyria...calm down."

She didn't realise until a second later what had happened.

Her eyes darted across the study, the lamps obliterated in smoke and fumes. The glass and metal shards were all over the marble floor. As she gazed down around her, she saw what she had done as well.

The ground had cracked beneath her, gold and white specks, and patterns within her radius. They dimmed as soon as she breathed out, letting the cracks disappear.

"I..."

She saw the horror in his face.

He had seen what she could do. What she had done back at the store in Norway.

As he tried to speak to her, reaching out to grab her hand she stepped back, gradually getting faster until she hit the back of the front door and fled.

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A/N: And so the ball drops and we finally get Kidnapped Family back together. :,) I honestly just loved the reunion with Elrond and Maglor so much and it just shows how much Elrond has for Maglor and for every parental figure he lost. 

It's just a shame that we also had to experience both Glorfindel and Illyria's confrontation, which I could never ignore because of how vital it is. Yes, Illyria might be acting too much but I could understand her if her brother knew all along and still is keeping back a lot of information.

This is a key thing and will be something that will make or break the future of this fic. Glorfindel and Illyria are siblings that did not deserve to be puppets and it is sad to see them growing distant because of it. :(

I also wish I could update more, but I'm still taking a fucking long time to edit and write. Thank you anyways for being patient. <3

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Edited: 12/10/2022